Vampire Earth
by RogerD
Summary: This AU to previous stories, but after the 'Odyssey Brief', and '4th Dimensional Being' . This is set in the genre created by E E Knight. Earth is under new management, Kurians, who steal the lifeforce of the inhabitants. Chapter 2 is up, yippee!
1. Vampire Earth Prologue

This is totally AU to my previous stories.

This is a Vampire Earth. Based on the novels by E E Knight, see vampireearth. Also has links to the British mini series Ultraviolet.

Prologue

My name is Peter Phillips, and I am Immortal. Just over two hundred years old, and my mentor was Mark Sabat a very powerful Immortal mage who I met in the 1960's. He taught a few of us for a few hours every day for about twenty years. In the late 1990's I joined the army in the United Kingdom under my false identity. If it hadn't been for Mark I my ID would not have passed the rigorous testing and inspection process for the SAS, but as he was a 'contractor' for both the US and UK, his opinion was very highly thought of. I spent almost fifteen years with the Special Services; SAS for ten years & at one point I transferred to the SBS for another five. Immortals if they learn to use their Quickening correctly cannot drown. Inorder to hide my true 'nature' I left and had the opportunity to become a 'contractor' of sorts, having links to both MI5 & MI6, and T-Branch.

A part of the British Government is trying to destroy vampires. It would seem vampires are concerned that mankind can finally destroy itself, and want to ensure their survival. They are busy recruiting scientists and 'bringing them over'. Their aim is to create a land of eternal night via nuclear winter. They have been experimenting & hope to live off cloned blood. Their ultimate goal is to exterminate mankind. They are years ahead of the human governments in scientific research, but being immortal gives you lots of thinking time. They do not eat, or breathe, are vulnerable to daylight, staking is temporarily fatal. Some are susceptible to holy items, but it is more psychosomatic than anything else. They do not cast a reflection, and neither can they be recorded electronically in any way. Sounds strange but true; no point trying to tape a confession, you get static. Upon 'death', they burst into flames and explode leaving behind a red residue or powder, should this red powder have the same type of vampire blood poured on it, full regeneration takes place. The remains of any assassinated vampires is held in containment by the representatives of this organisation, which has ties to the Vatican. They do not know about Immortals, Living Vampires, or Shapeshifters. The latter three do not count ourselves as being included in the plans of the 'Dead Ones'; although we all form part of the Preternatural Community, it is called the 'Community' for short.

In 2009, a massive EMP hit the USA, it was thought to be the work of terrorists. Overnight the United States became a third world country, with even more hunger and starvation than ever before, massive widespread corruption; for the safeguards that were previously in place were gone. The 'community' tried to protect itself and any loved ones, other mutants already on the run from a previous government created in the 1970's tried to help in the ensuing panic. Many losses occurred that day, and thereafter. Little did any of us know what was to come.

Things came crashing to an abrupt halt in 2022. Huge climate change, economic chaos taxing reserves. It was when the tidal waves and Tsunamis hit the East Coast of the USA, and Malaysia, huge Earthquakes levelled whole cities with no survivors. Almost 80 percent of the human race died in these years. While humanity was weak, the Umbrella Corporation had an accidental release ofthe 'T-Virus' in the USA, which rapidly spread to the rest of the world. It allowed a small spark of life to remain. Another type of virus being tested by one of their branches in the UK was the 'Rage', although the latter would only survive for twenty-eight days before the organisms 'burnt out'.

The M.O. for both virus's was identical; saliva, blood and other bodily fluids caused infection, consciousness was gone and the individual is dead to all intents and purposes. These zombies were impervious to pain, and could only be stopped by destroying the brain, or severing the spinal column. Many people would kill one at close range only to have the blood splash into eyes or mouth causing infection in them. The mainstream 'Community' seemed to impervious to infection by either virus due toour altered metabolism. Some of fringe groups in the 'Community' like Mages & Mutants helped in the fight but were not immune to infection and like the otherssuccumbing to virus. Many people were unable to distinguish between either virus and infectees became known simply as the 'Ravies'.

Those who were analysing all the Intelligence realised that the EMP strike in 2009 had been a test. That whomever had done orchestrated it had realised it had been a complete success. The current situation was a follow on attack, with bio warfare on a massive scale. Even the military was overwhelmed as resources were spread just too thin to cope. Contact in the 'Community' became less, many of us dying off; or those capable of leaving did so. Some may have gone to the Deveel's Bazaar for help.

Into the disaster came the Reapers. Scarecrow figures in their heavy cloaks, seemingly superhuman in their terrible strength, they took control where civil order was weakest, and imposed their rule mercilessly. Elsewhere armies of Grog warriors, huge seven feet tall apelike creatures, adapting with alacrity to human arms when they did not posses better weapons of their own. I never fought a Reaper, I died not long after they were encountered by being shot in the chest by a Grog. I was one of many that were dumped in a mass grave. No one even bothered to strip or take my equipment away. One savage rainstorm, and indeterminate years later I awoke gasping for breath, coughing for oxygen.

The year was currently 2065, I had been 'dead' for approximately 30 years, my clothes in tatters when I awoke. I was one of the few that were ex-military pre-fall that could make my own ammunition without being a 'smithy'. Unfortunately I didn't have the materials to make some of my equipment how it was, but having an associate who owned a Blacksmith was handy though. My old P90 is effectively useless as the rounds are so hard to make, repairs are a bitch. I have two modified Glock 10mm, an MP5, and a combat knife. I usually carry about five hundred rounds of 10mm ammunition but whereas pre-fall the empty clips would be discard I keep mine and reload at any opportunity. Spare ammo is kept in a back pack. Now I know what you're going to say, why am I not carrying a sword like other Immortals. Quite frankly, I've not come across one, or any of the 'community', although I have met plenty of mutants, just not human created.

You see, the Kurians were once called the Lifeweavers, and although long lived they do age and die. A faction in their government came across some information regarding the Pre-entities. These 'Old Ones' had learnt how to steal the lifeforce of a sentient, and this ability ensured immortality, and it is this skill that caused a 'schism' in the Lifeweavers. One part thought this a way to ensure their survival, others would not indulge in such actions. One faction, now known as the Kurians attacked the Lifeweavers, what happened no one knows. Another skill of the Lifeweavers was to shape and manipulate DNA like we carve clay. Some of the Lifeweavers are helping the resistance against their 'vampiric' brethren by creating human champions, 'wolves, 'cats', and 'bears'; altered humans subject to DNA adjustment. It may be here that man first learnt of mutans.

Some of Humanity has rebelled against their new 'masters' the Kurians, but being 'eaten' has a tendency to do that for some. One pocket of resistance in the USA is Ozarks Command, that owes no allegiance to the Kurians. Other 'freehold' territories exist, but they do not seek to aid other territories, only to hold their own. It is rumoured that any Reapers that cross the borders never return. It is there I wish to go but have not had the chance to get all the way there.

I don't work directly for the resistance at Ozarks Free Territory, Southern Command, although I do help out from time to time. Mostly I gather intel and kill a 'worthy' target. Sometimes the information I have will sold to Ozarks Command in exchange for other information or something else. At this moment I was currently wandering into a very unfriendly city by all accounts, Miami. A large area of Farmlands controlled by the Kurians, and some of the Quislings who serve them. I really hate Quislings, people who sold out humanity to save themselves.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

The city of Miami itself easily had 40 years of dilapidation, skyscrapers were in ruin or broken in half by some massive force, some had just collapsed. I would suspect earth quake, but who knows. Sometimes I was sickened how things had gone to 'rack and ruin'. As I walked into the city, there were not a lot of car or vehicles nowadays, most people got around by horseback. For me it was almost like going back to the American Civil War era, okay there was virtually no pollution; almost no people too. Cities were lucky to hold 10 of their previous populations. Off I went into the city proper.

People were everywhere and none were dressed in a particular fashion, most clothes were in need of a few stitches here or there, were certainly well worn, and in dire need of a wash like the owners. It reminded me of the good ol' wild west, and was expecting to see cowboys sometime soon, although judging by the people they were all armed in one way or another. I saw a nearby bar; where else is someone going to find something to eat and some gossip? This was one of the buildings that had good upkeep and kept relatively smart, and I was getting some very strange looks but standing in camouflage in a town has a tendency to do that. It was a bit like walking onto a street full of down and outs in Gucci loafers, and Armani trousers and shirt. I stuck out like a proverbial sore thumb, but many travellers tended to dress in similar manner.

"Excuse me, do you serve food here?" I asked the local barman. He was wearing a white cotton shirt, and some black trousers and was of average height, slightly rotund, and had heavy set of whiskers on him, at least he didn't smell like the other folk in here. The venue was about twenty feet wide and long, the bar itself was wood and about ten feet long with about a dozen tables and two or three chairs per table.

"Yeh, whatya want"

"What would the house special be?" At this point I noticed that several things, one I was downwind of two really smelly men who were walking my way; two they also smelt of whisky, although not heavily; three their intention was to create a situation and most likely a brawl, four they were both very heavy footed; oh and five the guy to my right favoured his left leg. Why am I a constant shit magnet? I turned around to examine the would be predators. They were both around two hundred pounds and a lot of it muscle, probably brothers as they looked very similar and around 6 foot tall. They both had blue uniforms on, with 9mm pistols on their right hip, and a large knife on their left, "Can I help you gents?" I asked as neutrally as possible.

"Yeh we wanna know who you work for?" I've developed what some would call a 'thousand yard stare', others would call it 'dead eyes' on account of having seen too much death.

I enhanced my stare by using Quickening, usually reserved for the bad guys & tends to sends them running home and screaming for their mommy's. Remember I said that the one that was formerly on my right, now on my left with the bad foot. He backed up a whole step and started to reach for his firearm; his 'brother' paled considerably as I stared them both directly in the eyes.

"Why don't you go bother someone else?" I said in a very low voice so as not to attract attention from the other six or seven other clientele and turned back around to the barman, "anyway, the 'house special', what do I get?"

"We're talking to you" bad leg said, while I gestured at the barman to answer my question.

"You get a steak, fresh peas, potatoes and gravy" said the barman gesturing at the twins malevolent.

"That'd be great thanks", as I slowly turned around to the brothers "I work for me, no one else"

"You speak funny. Where are you from?" What a question to ask an Immortal whose walked the world.

"I get around"

"Don't get funny with me cos I'll shoot you dead" said bad leg.

"Which city" stammered his brother

"I used to live in St Louis" which was actually true, about eighty years ago.

"If that's the case then you should know Big Marv then, he runs things down there?" Not only did I know him, past tense, I'd cut his throat open one month ago. Bad intel is dangerous thing. "Yeh I know him". Several things could happen, one; they ask me to describe him; two leave it alone; or three they knew something. I was hoping for option one, but considering my luck of late and the first question they asked I knew it would be three. Fingers crossed eh?

"We heard you killed him and we gonna…". At this point I made sure both hands were on the bar, and pushed off very fast still leaning forward and did a back kick in bad leg's chin. Both of his feet left the ground, and his hand dropped from his gun and he hit the deck unconscious. I turned on the other 'brother' before he even hit the floor and kicked the quadriceps, on the right leg. He fell to the floor and turned a very unnatural shade of green before passing out. The kick is actually designed to shear the muscle off bone and render your attacker helpless.

"Food's on the house" said the barman, "been waiting to see someone do that to them in years"

"Thanks"

"What canni get you to drink? Food be about twenty minutes for your steak or sooner depending on how you want it cooking" said the barman.

"Chefs preference" I shouted back as the barman made his way into the kitchen. I could hear voices in the kitchen, faint but nothing sinister, the barman was retelling the events. I saw a small attractive woman stick her head out the door, and look at the 'brothers'. I was hoping that after a good meal and a bath I could organise boat transport to the UK. I was supposed to meet my contact at the port, and only knew that it was a woman. Southern Command had asked that I deliver a letter to Midlands Command as the radio was not secure enough.


End file.
